


There's A Light We Might See

by ladydanger



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, F/M, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-21 14:42:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7391317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydanger/pseuds/ladydanger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Pepper Potts personal assistent, you like working till late. When you come home one night, you meet your new neighbor. You're not sure what to think of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Life was good to you. As a personal assistant of the one and only Virginia ‘Pepper’ Potts, you made enough money to afford an apartment in Brooklyn. A one-bedroom apartment with a luxurious kitchen, bathroom and even a little balcony in a renovated apartment complex. It was a bit of a search for you to find the right apartment, but from the moment you stepped foot in this one you were sold. With the dark, wooded flooring and spotless, white walls you could easily imagine how you wanted to furnish the place. Sunlight streaming through large, black framed windows bathed everything in a bright light and was symbolic to you for this new, exciting chapter in your life.

Your routine was most of the days the same: your alarm would go off at 7 in the morning, you showered, got dressed and did your makeup and hair. You took your time eating breakfast at the kitchen island - an old attitude you learnt at home - while checking the agenda for the day on your phone. A sleek, black car would pick you up at 8 and your day at the office - location: Stark Tower - would start at 9. Did you work your ass off? Yes, you did. Did you mind? No, you didn’t. Being the assistant of miss Potts was not an easy job and certainly not a mindless job, but you loved it. And you assumed you did well, since your last pay-raise. You had your own specious office in the tower, with windows from the floor to the ceiling and a fantastic scenery, overlooking the city. You could communicate with Friday and you had your own espresso machine. You could work 24/7 if your body allowed it. You had the privilege of letting the personal chef from Pepper and Tony Stark cook for you, so it was always assured you ate healthy. Why ate at home, alone, where no-one awaited you if you could watch your favorite Netflix show while eating tenderloin with mushrooms?

 When you came home that night, it was already dark and quiet outside, a warm summer's breeze lifting your hair when you stepped out of the car, dropping you off in front of your apartment building. You thanked the driver - Leon - while searching for your keys inside your purse. Nothing out of the ordinary, just a normal night.

So while taking the stairs instead of the elevator - as if your feet weren’t tired enough, but you liked the extra exercise so you could fall asleep more quickly - you were surprised to hear voices echoing through the stairwell. What…? Normally everything in the building would be as silent as the dead if you came home this late - the only sound your jiggling keys in your hand, the harsh clicking of your heels softened by the carpeted floor.

When you rounded the corner of the fourth floor, your floor, and looked to the left, you weren’t prepared for the following sight greeting your eyes: a glimpse of a muscled man with long, dark hair balancing a couch on his left shoulder - as if it weighed nothing more than a pack of feathers - and manoeuvring it through the open front door, the door right across your apartment.

 

One man.

 

Carrying a giant couch.

 

You’ve seen a lot of things. Of course, you lived in a world where men turned green, could travel with the speed of light, shrinked, shot spiderwebs, flew in the sky with a magic hammer summoning thunder - you name it -  and your boss was to be wedded to Iron Man for God's sake, but it would never not leave you flabbergasted to see an _enhanced_ in person and now in your own apartment building in Brooklyn.

 That or this guy was just incredibly strong and _normal_ but you doubt it, because that piece of furniture leaning on his shoulder looked heavy and you wondered how it could fit through the door in the first place.

Curious and excited, you dared to take a few steps towards the still open door to take a peek inside, debating if you should or shouldn’t shout out a ‘hello’. You caught a glimpse of a dimly lit hallway and living room. Furniture was standing in the middle of the room, as if it the owner still had to find a place for them. So that muscled guy had to be your new neighbor, right? It was late and you were tired, but you wanted to meet the person living across the hall, even though you thought it was odd someone would move in their new place at this hour of the day.

 

You never noticed the voices stopped talking, until the man with the long hair appeared in the doorway.

 

As a deer caught in the headlights, you were caught in the intense stare of the man before you. His face half hidden in the shadows, you couldn’t make out his features, other than that his form easily filled up the doorframe. But those eyes - a glittering glare - kept you frozen on the spot, barely permitting you to breath. His eyes traveled over your appearance; from your tight, white-knuckled grip on your designer bag, to your two-inch heels, black pencil skirt, crisp white blouse and settled at last on your face. There was nothing coy in his gaze - men eyeballed you enough for you to know the difference. No, he looked as if assessing if you were a _threat_.

 

You suddenly felt vulnerable.

 

You scraped your throat, afraid your voice would come out squeaky. “Eh… Hello?”

 You flinched when the man slammed his front door shut in response, right in your face.

 

 

 


	2. First Hint

 

Weeks passed by and you never saw the stranger from across the hall again, since he slammed the door shut that day with a violent bang. You replayed the moment over and over again in your mind, searching for the reason he may have reacted the way he did, but you found none. You remembered how you were quite shaken by his action and how your body felt hot and cold at the same time under his intense gaze. You remembered how after a minute of staring at the door - eyebrows knitted in confusion and outrage - you finally managed to move yourself to the other side of the hallway, keys shaking in your hand while opening your front door.

You could not deny that the thought of the man haunted you. Curiosity kept you awake at night, contemplating if you should knock at his door and welcome him with a platter of fresh baked cookies or if it was maybe for the best you never saw him again. He did have a dangerous vibe around him and it was maybe a tad suspicious you never heard him leaving his apartment. Was he a criminal, hiding in the expensive part of Brooklyn, where no one would suspect him of hiding? Or just a normal guy ( _‘sure, normal guys can lift giant furniture with one arm, he isn’t normal’_ ), working different shifts than yours ( _‘obviously’_ ) or traveled all over the world because he was an important businessman and never was at home because he slept in hotels all the time? You managed to talk to a few other residents in your spare time - an elderly couple from the first floor and Janet, a woman in her late forties from the second floor - but nobody has seen the new guy or even knew somebody new moved in apartment 4B.

Today it was a Saturday - which meant a day off - so you went out to buy groceries for the upcoming week. Coming home, you decided on taking the elevator this time. Just as you wanted to put your key in the keyhole, you heard the front door across the hall being opened and closed. A soft sound, so unlike the other time… You whipped your head back, hoping to catch a glimpse of your neighbor and you were not disappointed. You saw a man, walking fast towards the stairwell.

 

‘Wait!’

 

The man paused, surprised, his hand a light grip on the wooden bannisters. You could finally take a good look at him. The tight T-shirt he wore, a jacket thrown casually over his left arm, did in combination with the lights of the hallway a good job on highlighting the man's strong-looking biceps. Black-framed glasses and a blue cap slightly obscured his face, but you could still make out a questioning look in his eyes. _Yes…?_

‘Are you my new neighbor?’ you blurted out. By instinct you knew he wasn’t. This guy was as built as him, sure, but his demeanor was somehow different. His eyes were light and kind and nothing like the freezing stare you remembered so well. It didn’t matter though, you were happy there was _finally_ some sign of life coming from apartment 4B.

The man chuckled, a light sound. ‘No, ma'am. I’m his friend.’

 

You felt disappointed anyway. ‘Oh, alright. Do you happen to know if he’s angry at me?’ you questioned quickly, before he could take another step down the stairs. You felt rude for taking the poor man’s time, but you needed answers. ‘Not that I gave him any reason to be - I think - but I said ‘hello’ and he slammed the door in my face without saying a thing and I haven’t seen him since…’ you trailed off with a hopeful look on your face.

An apologetic smile appeared on the lips of your neighbor's mysterious friend. ‘He can be a bit private,’ he offered. ‘It wasn’t personal, I can assure you. Now, I kind of need to be somewhere, so you have to excuse me. Have a nice day, ma’am.’ And with that, before you could demand more information, he lifted his cap in a greeting and he disappeared in the stairwell, leaving you standing there in bewilderment - thinking of the mop of corn blond hair on his head and how he somehow looked familiar.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos, guys. I've planned this story a few chapters ahead, so there is definitely more to come. The chapters are still short, I know, but I'm still finding my way in the story and the pace in which I should proceed.
> 
> I mentioned in the prologue the reader - you - works in the Stark Tower. Stark Tower - headquarters of Stark Industries - has never been converted in the Avengers Tower. The Avengers have the option on living in the Avengers Mansion, Manhattan. Thought I should make this clear.


	3. Brooklyn's Vigilante

You were staring aimlessly at the water of Upper Bay. Reminiscing the time you were but a small child, strolling on the same promenade as you were standing right now. Holding a cone with chocolate ice in your left and the strong grip of your grandmother in your right hand.

To live in Brooklyn has been your dream since you were a little child. Growing up on a ranch was wonderful, but you lived for the moment when leaves would fall and cover the ground in shades of red and gold. It was the prelude of your visit to your grandmother, who lived in New York, Brooklyn. The wondrous elements of the city never failed to amaze you: the crowded streets, the smell of benzine and spices you never smelt before - wafting from foodtrucks and restaurants, each representing a different cuisine. The way skyscrapers seemed to go on endlessly and touch the clouds. The sounds of life and activity, so unlike the occasional neighing of horses, chirping of birds and quiet rustling of grass in the wind. Pressing your forehead to the cold, foggy glass of the trams, trying to catch every image your keen eyes could see. The feeling of your grandmother's strong hand in yours, as she showed you everything she knew and you wanted to see.  

Living in Brooklyn meant a fifty minute drive to work - or shorter if the traffic would allow it. It was worth it though, since this part of town allowed you to take a moment of rest - catching your breath from the turbulent worklife in uptown Manhattan. It’s been years since your grandma passed away, but you remembered her love for walking along the pier, her greying hair tucked neatly in a scarf to prevent the wind from messing up her coupe. You found yourself at the same pier, often. Thinking. Not thinking. Wandering aimlessly. Sometimes jogging for exercise.

 At the moment you were enjoying a few hours off before the gala you had to attend that night -  and so lost in your thoughts you almost missed the sound of one of AC/DC’s popular songs, coming from your purse. The ringtone none other than Tony Stark programmed in your phone to announce him when he’s calling you.

 

‘Hello Tony, how can I help you?’ you said as you picked up the phone.

 

‘Hey Salt, what’s up? I’m actually calling you up because I have a favor to ask…’

 

 

* * *

 

 

Attending business gala’s with Pepper Potts were never a bore. One) an open bar and tasty bites, two) dressing up in the finest evening wear and three) spending time with Pepper was fun. The few years working for her forged a solid friendship between the two of you. She knew she could always count on you and vica versa. Albeit fun, it was not an ‘all play and no work’ kind of evening. Pepper did some networking and you stood by her side, scribbling down contact details, significant information and making sure she talked with the right people. These type of galas were mostly for showing off what kind of people you knew and people would be more than happy to be associated with the blue-eyed beauty called Pepper Potts.

The location of tonight's gala was some fancy hotel in the Upper East Side. A jazz band played on stage, the tasteful sound filling up the room -  but never too loud to drown out conversation. Round tables, draped in white tablecloth and set with fine dinnerware and crystal glasses. Every company had their own table. You glanced at the empty seat next to Pepper, meant for a certain billionaire, who was - as always - fashionably late - if he even bothered to show up at all.

 

‘Ah, my two favorite girls in the same room: _Salt-N-Pepa_!’

 

Knowing immediately who stood behind you - Salt-N-Pepa, yes, referring to that hip-hop group from the eighties, was Tony Stark’s favorite nickname for you and Pepper together. None of his famous parties passed without him putting on the song ‘Push it’ and he even got ‘his favourite girls’ to dance on it that one night (which you vigorously deny every time but you know Friday has it on tape, because Pepper told you Tony likes to watch it when he’s drunk).

 Turning around with a smile, you saw Tony standing there in the fancy, black tuxedo you picked up for him two days ago - along with your and Pepper’s dress - and Tony Stark wouldn’t be Tony Stark if his right hand wasn’t holding a glass of whisky. Even the whisky looked expensive and you wouldn’t put it past him if this particular liquid swirling in glass cost more than his tuxedo and your dress combined. His arms were widespread and he grinned from ear to ear. You gave him a friendly peck on the cheek after he lifted Pepper in his arms to greet her, spinning her around.

 

‘And what are these fine looking woman up to this evening?’ Tony asked, ever the conversationalist.

 

‘Apart from running your company, while you work twentyfourseven in the lab?’ Pepper remarked drily.

 

‘Yeah, besides that,’ Tony said, waving his hand as if waving the comment away. ‘Any luck with the men tonight, Salty?’ He wiggled his eyebrows at you while taking a sip of his drink. You just rolled your eyes, annoyed at the nickname and annoyed he always tried to set you up with people.

 

‘Really Tony, don’t bite the hand that’s picking up your tuxedo’s,’ you quipped. ‘Besides, I haven’t had the time for dating and no man caught my interest anyway.’

 

_Eyes like cold steel..._

 

You did not like that unwanted thought at all and you suppressed a shudder.

 

‘It’s not about having the time, it’s about making the time,’ Tony said wisely. ‘Look at Pepper and me - the perfect example! We did not know we would end up together - but then again, she was alway my dream girl.’

 

You smiled. Besides the collisions between your boss and Tony (which was mostly about Tony being Iron Man more often than Tony Stark - yes, they were two separate entities according to Pepper), Tony surprised you with a phone call that afternoon, asking if you could clear Pepper’s schedule next week. For - and you’re quoting Tony here - ‘ _makin’ sweet love to my hard working girlfriend on the sandy beaches of the private island I recently attained.’_

 

‘And that’s why,’ Tony continued, while looking at Pepper with a secret smile, ‘your dearest assistant freed your schedule - quite impressively I may add - so you can accompany on a little vacation.’

 

Pepper’s delighted gasp meant everything to you, and she looked questioningly your way. _How did you manage…?_ Like you, Pepper Potts was known for a hard working boss lady, who barely could afford to leave for vacations longer than a weekend.

 

‘And your bags are already packed,’ you add with a wink. ‘Including the new Isabel Marant dress you had your eyes on a few weeks ago.’

 

If you did not intent to have an active love life, you sure as hell wanted your boss to have one. Even if that meant you had to work a bit harder the upcoming week.

 

* * *

 

When the night was over, you halted a cab to take you home. Tony offered you a ride with him and Pepper in his limousine, but you declined. It would be long drive from Manhattan to Brooklyn and they had a private plane to catch, so you jokingly pointed out it would be quicker if he lent you his Iron Man suit. ‘Fat chance, kid,’ Tony chuckled.

You stared out of the window, watching the buildings fly. It’s been a long night and an exhausting week. You would be home in ten minutes and the thought of laying your head on soft pillows made you long for home. Pulling off your stilettos in the hallway, walking on bare feet to the kitchen to make some tea. Basking in the total silence of your house - quite the opposite of the constant sound of music and murmuring voices at the gala. What sort of tea would you make? Rooibos? Or something soothing with lavender? Your thoughts were rudely interrupted by a loud ‘BOOM’ and you bolted upright in your seat, grabbing the door handle.

 

'Shit - shit!' the cabdriver exclaimed, trying to steer the car to the curb and the vehicle came to a stuttering halt.

 

'What happened?' you asked, mildly in panic as you opened your door to step out, copying the driver. Wisps of smoke slithered through the grooves of the hood, but as the cabdriver opened said hood, black fumes broke free. Shit, indeed.

 Turned out you needed to walk the rest of the way, or wait for another cab to pick you up. Which would take long, since this was the busiest time of the night. The cab driver offered you a place in the cab till a replacement car showed up, but you decided to choose the first option. It would only take ten minutes to get home and you were secretly delighted at the opportunity to be walking along the pier again, which lay on the route from here.

 Letting your hair down from the elegant knot in your hair, you enjoyed the wind whipping your hair freely along your face. Your heels clicked on the concrete, no other sound to be heard this late at night...

 

'Hey girly, come over here!'

 

At one of the wooden benches along the road a group of men were sitting and one of them was calling you. They were laughing loudly, clearly ending a night out. You stepped forward wearily. You had to get past them to get home, but were not happy with the prospect of marching by a group of drunken men.

Turned out you did not have to make that choice, because the men started walking towards you.

 

'Don’t be shy, we only want to talk!'

 

 _Only want to talk, sure thing_ , you thought, wanting nothing more than run away from these creeps. Resolutely your turned around because no way you were dealing with this. You kept your head held high, palms sweating and your heart racing. _Do not let them see you are scared._ You hoped they were just bluffing, maybe getting bored and would leave you alone, but there was no luck on your side and they were too close. Just as you wanted to press the call-button on your phone, a hand gripped your upper arm roughly, grasping the object from your clammy fingers and whirling you around.

 

'Hey! Give that back!'

 

‘Nu-uh, don’t want you calling the police, baby,’ one of the guys said, his breath smelled like alcohol and his face was as ugly as his thoughts. When you made a grab for your phone, the guy held it high above his head, taunting you.

 

'You want this? Maybe something for exchange?'

 

You ripped your arm out of his cruel grasp, and his eyebrows shot up in surprise from the fire you showed. If only you took the self-defence classes with Pepper, you would be more prepared than this and the fucker would be laying on the ground with a broken nose. Probably.

 

'It isn’t yours in the first place, so you get nothing,’ you snarled. Your phone held important important information, collected at the gala and not yet synchronised with your laptop. From the corner of your eye you saw the other guys, four more of them, all laughing and ‘ooh’-ing at your comment. Your hands balled in a fist and you gritted your teeth. It was all a game to them and you felt violated and humiliated when they suddenly gave you a hard shove in the back. Just because. You wanted to run, eyes darting wildly around to find an opening in the circle.

 

A hard blow in the ribs forced a shrill sound from your vocal chords and you staggered. Hands gripping you, shoving you, hurting you.

 

‘That’s not how you treat a dame, is it?’ A gravelly voice cut through the cooling nightair.

 

The group was silenced effectively. You could not see the newcomer, but from the sudden tension crackling in the air, you assumed he was not welcome at all. Someone from the group spoke up, but everything was drowned out by the hope that swelled up your heart. Someone saw you! Someone would help!

 

A sudden shove made you lose your balance. Your hands scraped the floor, vaguely hearing something rip. Tears threatened to spill, blinding your sight.

 

 

_Later that night, you would replay this moment over and over in your mind. How it was possible that one man managed to punch a group of guys unconscious in less than a blink of the eye. Not that you saw anything. By the time you could the scene the harassers lay in a motionless heap on the ground and silence fell over the pier once more._

 

 

You scrambled up, like a newborn filly on wobbly knees. Trying to spot your phone amidst the bodies as you were rising. Thoughts scattered. Your hand pressing on your side, as if some pressure would take the pain away.

 

A figure was watching you on the side. With a streetlamp behind him, you could only see your saviour vaguely. Thick thighs clad in loose jogging trousers. A brandless cap, obscuring half his face. You fleetingly thought of vigilantes operating in certain parts of New York, but did not recall any hints of them operating in Brooklyn.

 

You must look like a loonatic, rolling bodies around in the search for your phone.

 

And then his voice spoke up: ‘It’s not safe to wander the streets alone at night, lady.’

 

His tone was steady, as if he barely lifted a finger. You could only open and close your mouth, wanting to thank him - but your vocal chords seemed to fail you.

 

‘Are you hurt?’

 

There it was, your phone! A few meters apart from the scene, with the screen turned up. You let out a sob as you cradled the small object in your hands. If you had lost it…

 

‘Hey! Hey, come here… are you alright?’ Strong arms wrapped around you. An anchor to your trembling body. Droplets falling on the surprisingly intact phone. Were you crying?

 

‘It’s alright, shhh… Let’s get you home. Come on.’

 

‘I- I -,’ you scraped your throat, mumbling into the stranger's chest. ‘Thank you.’ Your voice never sounded so brittle.

 

The walk back to your apartment was quiet, the footsteps of the man next to you surprisingly light for his posture. You still couldn’t make out his features, his face obscured by long, brown locks and a cap. But you were too lost in your blurry thoughts, thinking about what would’ve become of you if it wasn’t for him. He was a stranger to you, but you felt a sense of security with him.

 

After a few moments of hiding in his arms, you felt embarrassed. The sudden attachment was a logical result of the shock, but still - you did not knew the man.

  

'You should take some self-defence classes,' He spoke quietly in his low voice, startling you. You looked at him, but he did not look at you while speaking. You didn’t peg him as the shy type. You knew that your looks were good enough to make guys stumble over their words sometimes when talking with you, but that was not the case this time.

 

Your mind wandered off to the memory of Pepper training in Stark Tower’s gym. Watching on the sideline - working on your laptop, making phone calls - you glanced at the ring every ten or fifteen minutes to check if she was okay. Sure, you were impressed by your boss’ fighting skills, but other than that you never thought of getting into the sport yourself. Bruised legs didn’t look professional in a skirt. And somehow Pepper Potts possessed the skill to not bruise, no matter how hard she was being hit.

 

‘I know,’ you said finally. “My boss is into fightings sports, but I guess I never saw the value of it until now,’ shrugging your shoulders, you continued, ‘I normally don’t work myself in situations like this, you know. I’m a responsible girl. At least, I used to be.’  

 

The walk back home was so short you idly wondered if maybe you had ran the whole road you would’ve made it safely home without this incident. You could already see the lanterns next to the entrance, glowing softly.

 

‘It’s not your fault, lady,’ the dark haired stranger said. ‘Men have always been like this, that is what I know. Rotten apples, picking on the weak ones.’

 

You made an undignified sound. ‘I am not weak!’

 

‘You could not defend yourself, could you?’ He countered. You could almost hear him raising his eyebrows. ‘You should get proper training.’

 

You could not object to that. ‘Maybe you should train me,’ you said. This guy obviously knew a few moves and you would bet all your money he could take out Pepper’s krav maga teacher in no time. But the man beside you froze after you spoke. It was like something clicked inside him. Changing him. A dark veil clouding his thoughts.

 

He stood still, right before the entrance of your apartment building and you did the same, confusingly. How did he know where you lived…?

 

‘ **No.** ’

 

The answer came out harsh. No warmth. Unyielding.

 

And then he looked at you while you were still recovering from his sudden change in tone - properly looked you straight in the eyes, without a shadow hiding his features anymore. The lanterns bathed him in a soft glow, making him almost look ethereal...

 

He was handsome. That was something your mind had decided within the nano second you could see his face. A day-old stubble grazed his strong jaw, defined cheekbones that could cut glass... and his lips, pink and pouty - if only they were not pressed in a hard line, as they were now.

 

But it were his eyes that captivated you, crowned by a set of dark lashes. Eyes like cold steel, with a hint of the darkest shade of blue. One wrong move and you would cut yourself. One wrong move and…

 

This was the guy. The guy from across the hall you hadn’t seen in weeks. If it wasn’t for his friend visiting him, making you doubt if he even existed! And here he was. The same glare, the same rigid stance of his body… Only this time his he did not turn away. He searched your face for something and then the strangest thing happened. His face relaxed, so suddenly - as if he could hear the hammering of your heart that told him you meant no harm with your suggestion.

 

He made a sudden movement with his head to the entrance. ‘This is where you live, right?’

 

You blinked. ‘Yes…’

 

‘Then let's get you inside and patch you up.’

   
You nodded. A thousand questions racing through your head. 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see! I know, it's been terribly long since an update. It was as if the story was stuck and I've been over different scenarios in how the reader and her neighbour should meet, but everything sounded so cliché / didn't feel 'right'. Not that the whole 'damsel in distress' trope is not a cliché, but I think this suits the story well. Let's see where it goes, from here.
> 
>  
> 
> Let me know what you think! I would love to read your thoughts. Did it took the turn you were expecting? How do you imagine the story will continue? I know I'm not some great novelist, lol, but I'm experimenting with my writing along the way. 
> 
>  
> 
> P.s. I do not have someone beta-ing this story for me and English is not my first language, so I'm sorry for any mistakes.


	4. Playing cards

‘I met my neighbour last night,’ Bucky said to Steve, as they were playing a game of Crazy Eights at his place. When they were not on missions, Steve visited him often - wanting to spend as much time with him as they did before the war.

‘That took you long enough,’ Steve said, throwing one of his cards on the table. Bucky made a noncommittal sound. ‘How’d that happen?’

 ‘It was no pleasant meeting at all,’ Bucky said, laying down his card since it was his turn. ‘When checking the perimeter at two, I found her- at the promenade. All dolled up, obviously coming from a party. She was being beaten up by some civilians, just for kicks. I… I lost my cool, Steve... I knocked them out cold and took her home.’

‘Are you kidding me?’ Steve said, pausing the game. ‘Is she okay?

 ‘Yeah, patched her up. No broken bones. Promised to check up on her today. Y’know, I’m thinking about teaching her some self defence, just the basics. She seems too smart of a gal to walk the streets again at night, but you never know. What d’you think?’ Bucky searched Steve face, hoping he would think it would be okay to interact with a civilian, even though they agreed he would keep a low profile before the trial.

‘Yeah, Buck. Why not?’ Steve said after a while, looking back at his cards. ‘Some human contact besides me and the team might be good for you, pal. And by the way -  I won.’ Steve grinned, laying down his last cards one by one on the table.

 ‘Jerk,’ Bucky said, an impressed smile forming on his lips.

 ‘Punk,’ Steve replied, automatically, as Bucky reached for the cards again to start a new game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little something before the bigger chapter I'm currently writing. Leave a comment if you liked what you read thus far!


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